I thought the desert wouldn't have much to offer.Just sand.And more sand.
For a moment, I even thought it might get boring.
Life proved me wrong—fast.
We get our first desert meal. I'm not even going to describe it. The taste? Well… it was food. Not bad. Definitely not good. It actually made me miss the leftovers from the restaurant—especially the fried rice.
Am I really getting homesick for that shithole?
I hope not.
After the meal, Pain orders us to line up and starts handing out tasks. They say it's hard to change your nature—and apparently, mine is being a delivery guy.
Or, as they call it here: a runner.
I'm ordered to carry boxes from one side of the camp to the other. That's how I end up learning the layout of the place. There isn't that much personnel, really. Counting Russo, Pain, and the other guy who never even bothered to introduce himself, there are maybe twenty-five to thirty of those "specialists."
All of them keep their faces covered.
Like celebrities.
As if I were some die-hard fan.
Yeah. Right.
We rookies don't really get a chance to recover—or even talk properly. Everyone looks grim. Exhausted. Hollow. But we all seem to share the same thought.
Yeah, even with Pain's proclaimed love for human rights, they brought us here.No consent.No warning.Except for those lunatics who came looking for training.
But if you actually stop and think about it…
It's one hell of an opportunity.
The ones drowning in debt will be free before some mobster breaks their legs.The ones looking for "experience"? They're exactly where they wanted to be.And people like me—with that amount of money on the table—I can dream bigger.
No longer a food stall.Maybe a restaurant.Maybe a decent car.Maybe marriage.
So do we really have a reason to escape?
So far, we're alive. They provide clothing, food, training. Everything is… functional. Free.
I know there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world. But what's the point of obsessing over the uncertain? Better to focus on what helps you do the job—and shove every other thought aside.
After all, unless I'm willing to walk three hundred kilometers into the desert, thinking about escape is useless.
The day drags on like that.
Before sleeping, they make us jog again. Lighter this time. No sun, thankfully—but our bodies are already at the limit. I'm barely holding together, and my companions aren't doing any better.
When we finally stop, Pain hands us written instructions.
The title alone makes me want to laugh.
Camping for Dummies.
With that, he goes to sleep.
As for us? We're supposed to set up the tent.
Impossible.
Tired.Hungry.Empty.
So we do the stupid thing.
We sleep directly on the sand.
Big mistake.
The cold during the night is brutal. The sand never stops hitting us, crawling into everything. Proper rest is impossible.
At some point, this guy—Rupert—starts freaking out, saying something bit him.
Panic spreads fast.
Honestly?
Seems reasonable.
By the time morning comes, we're worse than before we went to sleep.
I guess Pain had a really nice rest, because this time we start running at six in the morning. Early bird—at least it's before the sun hits hard. After almost two hours of running, I manage to get back to the tent area.
Eventually, we nail it.
We set up the tent.
Pain takes one look at it…
And gets pissed anyway.
So we earn ourselves a midday run as punishment.
At least we get water again.
Then it's back to the daily activities. Lunch comes around three, in places so uncomfortable it's hard to even consider it rest. After that, more work—until another buffet-style meal shows up around six.
After dinner, Pain orders us to split in half.
Ten lucky rookies get the wonderful introduction to the rotating night guard system.
Standing still.All night long.Just watching the sand doing sand things.
The next day, I'm about to reach my limit.
But I guess this is my new routine. My new life.
Same food.Same exhaustion.Same rhythm.
I can't complain too much, though. I probably got the best job available in the camp. The boxes are heavy, sure—but the others are digging latrines, sumps, and half-assed trenches under the sun.
The funny part?
They move the sand from one place… and thirty minutes later, the sand is back.
I don't know who the hell they're expecting to attack this place. I guess paranoia is one thing the military has in common everywhere.
I just hope it's not contagious.
this time it's my turn for the night watch
The place is completely desolated.
During the hours I stand night guard in the middle of nowhere, i have to admit the view is something unique. The sky is packed with stars—so many they almost light up the universe.
It makes me sentimental.
I can't help thinking about my family.
I wasn't the most filial son, but I tried. Every once in a while, I called home. Talked to them. And before I could get teary or say something too sad, I bidded goodbye.
That feeling fills my chest completely.
I wonder if anyone is worried about me.If the old man ever read my message.If he searched all of Sunny Town looking for me.
Sure. Dreaming is free.
Nice joke.
And there, with my mind wandering God knows where, and my body standing in the middle of the unknown…
I do what I do best.
I endure.